


Phoenix of Minrathous- One Shots

by kawakaeguri



Series: Phoenix of Minrathous [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-05 12:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12794187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawakaeguri/pseuds/kawakaeguri
Summary: Random collection of one-shots related to my main fic, Phoenix of Minrathous, in no particular order. Always open to new prompts and ideas!THERE BE SPOILERS AHEAD





	1. The Great Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers! Do not read if you haven't gotten to Chapter 51. Takes place during Chapter 56. Various characters reactions' to finding out A

“Messere Tethas, might I have a moment of your time?” The sweet, cultured voice knocked him away from his concentration, quill hovering above the parchment as he glanced into the face of the woman called Adrienne Iseri.

“Sure,” he replied shortly. He had thought she was okay at first, when she had first appeared abruptly in Skyhold several months ago. She was polite, inoffensive, and rather pleasing to look at. Plus, she said she was related to one of his favorite people. Then he had spied her, liplocked with the lover of his favorite person outside of the Winter Palace. Varric was just biding his time until he confronted the former Knight-Captain, intent on ripping him to shreds. How dare he tread on Aerin’s heart like that? She, who had never been anything but good and doting and affectionate towards the recovering addict. And her cousin! Adrienne had to know that Aerin and the Commander were together. Fucking bullshit.

“Um, not here,” she muttered. “Maybe in that small room above the armory?” _How does she know about that place?_

“Fine,” he huffed, pushing his chair out so he could stand. Wordlessly, he stomped down the stairs into the courtyard, pushing the door open to the blistering building where the forges lay, grumping his way up the stairs. Spinning around once he had reached the top, lips pulled back in a sneer, his eyes narrowed at the woman. “You-”

“Varric. Before you hit me, can I talk?” Her smooth accent fell away, revealing a cadence that was eerily familiar.

“Uh…” head tilting in confusion, he hesitantly nodded. He should know what’s happening. He was smart, dammit. That voice, it was-

With a wide smirk, Adrienne unsnapped the everite cuffs he had always seen her wearing around her wrists. A hazy glow enveloped her body, her form shifting and shimmering, almost shrinking until-

“Aerin?! Andraste’s fucking hair tits, it’s you!” Cackling with relieved and slightly hysterical laughter, the dwarf all but tackled her to the ground, lifting her up in a huge bear hug. “It’s you, the real you! I can’t believe this shit. And here I was about to pound you into the ground for trying to steal your cousin’s boy toy away.”

The elf giggled as she slid the bracelets back on, fastening them back into place, the black haired human retaking her place. “It is me. Dagna made these for me. I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, Leliana wanted to use me at Halamshiral and so we kept it under wraps. But now I can tell people. Well, Ellana’s inner circle at least.”

“So that’s why Curly’s been in such a bad mood these last few months,” he chuckled, leaning against the railing. “Still can’t fucking believe it. Hawke’s gonna flip her shit.”

“I know!” she squealed. “I’m going to wait until I can tell everyone face to face, just so I can see their reactions.”

“Alistair?” Varric asked softly.

“Him, too,” Aerin murmured. “I feel like sending a letter would be so… trite? Would he even believe me? Would anyone? No, I think it’d be better to tell him in person. Plus, if that letter were intercepted…”

Sighing, he nodded. “Yeah. If knowledge that that kind of magic exists, it could just cause more chaos. Who could anyone trust, if people can shapeshift? Your best friend might be your worst enemy, in disguise. Right, well then,” clapping his hands together, Varric rubbed them together in glee, “Who we telling next?”

“Oh, you’re just inviting yourself along now?” she teased.

“Of course, someone needs to take notes.”

“Varric,” her voice rose in warning. “No stories about this. Or I swear I will tell Cassandra who the protagonist of your new serial Seeking Love is really based on.”

“Fine, fine! Gah. Not like anyone would believe this story anyways. Too farfetched,” he grumbled. “I’m still coming.”

“Mmm. Sera? And Blackwall. And Solas. You grab the elfy elf and I’ll get the elf and meet you in the stables.”

“What about Bull? And Dorian?”

“Oh, they already know,” she waved it off. “Bull figured it out on his own, using his stupid Qunari nose. And Dorian helped Dagna with the runes on this. I’ll tell Vivienne up in her solar. Doubt she would deign to come down on her own,” Aerin rolled her eyes, making gagging noise at the thought of the haughty mage.

“They knew? And I didn't," he muttered softly, a pained look crossing his face. "I thought we were better friends than that."

"I'm sorry, Varric. I... I wanted to tell you," she sat down in a nearby chair, throwing up her hands helplessly. "But the more people that knew, the greater the chance of something slipping."

"Meaning, you trusted them and not me."

"No!" Aerin shook her head vehemently. "Dorian had to know, since he was key in helping Dagna. Besides that, only Ellana and the advisors knew. I'm telling you first, right now. That has to count for something, right?" she pleaded. "I'm so, so sorry. I wanted to you to know. I really did."

Scrubbing at his face, the dwarf's shoulders fell as he exhaled loudly. "Yeah, it does count. I get it, I really do." Grinning once again, he patted her on her jet black hair. "Glad to have you back, Aerin.”

“Adrienne,” she correctly idly, smiling in relief that he wasn't mad at her. “Now, shoo.” It wasn’t far to the tavern, the building fairly empty this time of day. Waving to Cabot the bartender, she hiked up her skirts as she carefully climbed the stairs to Sera’s small, sunny alcove. “Hello? Sera?” she called through the closed door. _Not here?_ Gently, she pushed the door open to reveal a pile of blinding bright and nauseating plaidweave bundled up on the window seat, roughly snoring. Aerin grinned as she leaned over the sleeping woman and whispered, “Boo!” in her ear. Nothing.

Groaning in exasperation, she tried again, this time louder. “Sera!” Still nothing. Grumbling to herself, her eyes lit up as she spied a set of tin cymbals tucked behind a mess of arrows. Perfect. The loud clang reverberated through the small room, jarringly harsh.

“Huh! Whosit? Whatsit? Bloody piss sticks!” Sera shot upright, hair sticking out at every odd angle, blearily blinking around the room. “Oy, it’s you. What’s all this about?”

“I need you to come with me, please,” Aerin responded primly.

“Too early,” the elf yawned, settling back down.

“Sera, it’s past midday. Come on, it’s important. You can go back to sleep later.” Grabbing the reluctant woman by her wrist, Aerin hauled her out of the tavern and across the keep to the stables.

“Better be good,” she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“It’ll be worth it. Oh good, everyone else is already here. Up into the loft please,” she motioned for the others assembled to climb the ladder, politely smiling at them all.

Raising a delicate eyebrow, Solas went first up into the second floor of the stables, Blackwall merely shrugging as he followed suit. “Didn’t say nothing ‘bout climbing fricking ladders this early in the day,” Sera grumbled as she grabbed ahold of the first rung.

“This is going to be so good,” Varric could barely contain his excitement. 

“So…” Aerin dusted off her skirts when she reached the top, turning to face the trio who stood regarding her with varied expressions, mainly curiosity. “Um. Well. There’s no easy way to say this, sooooooo. Hi, I’m Aerin Lavellan.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of Orlais,” Sera snorted. “Really, what’s this all about?”

“It’s true. Here, watch.” Varric was ready for it this time as she slid her cuffs off, smiling brightly when the ruby haired elf in the suddenly oversized dress appeared, smiling hesitantly at her friends.

“Fucking hell!” Sera yelped, leaping back a few steps.

“Maker’s balls,” Blackwall stared. “You’re- what? How?”

“Yes,” Solas murmured, face clouding into an unreadable expression. “How?”

Clearing her throat, Aerin pulled the runed everite back on, filling out her dress once more as a human. “When I was in Tevinter, the mages in my master’s employ bound me with an extremely powerful blood magic rune. I was born human. But I’ve been living as an elf since I was 11. Dagna and Dorian only recently found out how to disrupt the binding.”

“So, you’re not even a little elf. Huh,” Sera wrinkled her nose. “That’s some creepy magic shit.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I am happy for you, my lady, that you are restored,” Blackwall smiled gently down at her. “You must be relieved.”

“I am. Thank you, Blackwall. So, you’re not mad at me?” her gaze swung from person to person.

“Eh, not really. Uh- it’s not contagious, right?” Sera gulped.

“No, you tit. It’s not. Now this stays a secret between us. The inner circle and the advisors are the only ones who can know, understood?”

“Of course.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Solas?”

His face was frozen into a impassive neutrality. “I understand. I should congratulate you, I suppose. If that is all, Aerin?”

Frowning at him, she shook her head. “My name is Adrienne Iseri. We’re keeping my two appearances separate still. So when I’m human, I’m Adrienne.”

“As you wish,” he gave her a stilted bow. “Anything else?”

“No, you’re free to go.” Nodding at her, he swiftly exited the loft, striding out of the stables with a brisk pace.

“Looks like eggy is all riled up because the woman of his dreams isn’t as elfy as he thought,” Sera grinned. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice him staring at you? Bet he wanted to teach you alllll about the People.”

 _He did spend a lot of our time in the Fade rambling about Arlathan and the Evanuris. So fucking weird_. “Whatever, he’s a git anyways. Hey Sera, wanna come with me to tell Vivienne?”

“Hells yes! Iron britches can shove it!”

***

She was human. In just a simple, short minute, he had watched his plans unravel before his eyes. _No, not unravel. The ultimate goal remains the same. Just a minor change._ Still, he couldn’t be here anymore. He needed to get away, clear his mind, regroup. Writing a hasty letter to the Inquisitor, Solas packed his bags and headed back down to the stables.

“Solas? What’s this about?” Ellana jogged up behind him, waving his note in her hand. “You’re leaving?”

“Something has come up,” he replied stiffly. “I will return, have no fear, vhenan.”

“Vhenan,” she frowned and crossed her arms. “I wonder if you even mean it anymore.”

“Of course I do,” his voice was rougher than she had ever heard it before, almost as if he was gritting his teeth, about to lose his temper. “I just need a few days. Then all will be fine. Please, Ellana.”

 _He almost never uses my name_ , she sighed, nodding at the tall elf. “Fine. Dareth shiral, Solas.” Smiling in thanks with distant eyes, he reached out to fondly squeeze her hand just before he vaulted into the saddle and rode out of Skyhold.

She wasn’t an elf. She wasn’t one of the People, after all. It explained a lot, actually. How she couldn’t see as well in the dark. How her hearing was closer to a human’s range. How her heart was so soft. She was human. But still a mage, and still powerful. And she had lived as an elf, understood their plight, considered one as her sister. She still might be of use. It would take careful planning, but perhaps…


	2. Dimachaerus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Septicentennial, where Aerin becomes Victorem. Takes place just before Chapter 5. Mainly written so I'd have more practice at writing action. Shit is hard.

She was young, impossibly so for this tournament. Alone she stood in the spartan antechamber, torchlight flickering off sandstone walls. Her eyes were closed, hair as red as blood tightly pulled back in a long braid and pinned at the top of her head, like a crown. The only sign she was awake was the slight rise and fall of her chest, barely visible under the ebony and crimson embossed leather armor that covered her slender body, only her upper arms and thighs bare.

Her mind was clear, devoid of all emotions, a pulsing flame in her subconscious burning through all of her fear, anxiety, and loathing. _Breathe in, out. In, out._ Her only thoughts were of her lungs, feeling them expand and deflate as she concentrated on her airflow. Awareness trickled down the length of her limbs, feeling each muscle and nerve, loose and ready. A finger twitched as the roar of the waiting crowd reached her even here, in this subterranean room.

Sandaled footsteps approached her from behind, the leather rasping against the sandy floor. “You’re next.”

Electric blue eyes, ringed by a thin band of burnished gold opened, focusing on the door ahead of her. “I am ready.”

“You will bring honor to Ludus Therion today.” He didn’t have to voice the ‘or else’. The unspoken words hung around her like a noose.

“Of course, Doctore.” Silently, ever the obedient slave, she followed the hulking scarred, bald man out of the antechamber, the hum of the masses growing louder until their screams were right upon her. Her bright eyes stared through the iron bars at the open arena, sand already liberally streaked with blood from the previous fights of the day. Her graceful hands rested easily on her sword hilts.

“Remember the price of your failure,” he whispered in her ear. _Ellana._

“Always, Doctore.”

A rich voice boomed out over the Imperial Proving Grounds, “For our next fight! Oh, this one will be an epic sight to behold! The warrior Ignatus! This combat veteran fancies himself a retiarius, favoring the net and trident! Opposing him is the up and coming Seraphina, the dimachaerus! We last saw her dominate the arena at the last Wintersend spectacle. Will she come out victorious today? Or will Ignatus reign supreme? Ladies and gentlemen, let the battle begin!”

Gripping the dual swords that labeled her dimachaerus, she swung them free of her scabbards as the iron gate rose and she stepped out into the view of the crowd. Their voices swelled around her as she paused in the center, calmly watching the other man approach. He was leanly built, her head coming to about his shoulders, long muscles bulging against his leather armor. A weighted net was wrapped around one of his hands, a wickedly sharp trident in his other. Leering at her, he raised his arms, reveling in the cheers of the watching masses, roaring his strength and prowess to the skies. He was cocky and arrogant. She smirked.

Her showmanship was not of the flashy sort. She was the eye of the storm, her blades a violent tornado around her lithe frame. Her skills would speak for themselves this day. “Are you done?” she asked in a bored tone, lazily twirling her swords at her side as the magic overlaid in the arena amplified their voices.

“So eager to taste the dirt, Seraphina?” he jeered to the delight of the crowds.

“Just tired of hearing you talk,” she sighed dramatically. “Did you practice that one in front of your mirror? Primping and prancing around like a fine dandy?” her hands motioned to his perfectly coiffed hair.

He snarled at her as the crowd laughed at him. “I just wanted to look my best when I stand over your defeated, broken body.”

“I’d love to see you try.” The ringing of a gong signified the end of their banter. At once, he hefted his net over his head, spinning it around as he attempted to pin her down. Aerin smiled to herself. She had already found his weakness. His anger was already showing. It would take just a little more to push him over the edge. “Do you even know how to use that?” she scoffed, agilely rolling out of his path. The ropes landed harmlessly at her side. “Or did you just decide to become a retiarius because it looked pretty?”

With a growl, he swung his trident in one hand, snatching the net back up in the air. Eyebrow raised, she watched as the ropes settled over her still frame. Ignatus shouted his triumph, turning to the crowd to gloat his victory. “Oh no, whatever shall I do,” Aerin intoned. His head whipped around at her tone. She didn’t sound afraid, or angry, she sounded… smug. Her eyes flashed, lips revealing even white teeth as she grinned. A fire erupted from her hands, burning straight through the ropes, the light reflected in his wide eyes. “Oops.”

“You little-” the human launched himself at her, sharp tips of the trident aimed at her stomach. _Finally_. Ducking his first few parries, Aerin wedged a sword in between the prongs on his last thrust, grunting as she used the blade as a lever, twisting the trident free of his grasp. Heaving it behind her, she heard it clatter to the ground as the screams of the crowd grew to an almost painful level. Ignatus brandished his only weapon left, a small, paltry dagger he held with false bravado.

“Really?” she sighed. Her form blurred as she Fade stepped behind him, a boot firmly planting into his back, shoving him into the ground with a muffled thud. “How’s that dirt taste, Ignatus?” Aerin cooed, driving her swords into the ground in an X above his neck. “Yield?”

It took him a few seconds to find his voice. “Yield,” he spat. Grinning, she withdrew her blades, sheathing them at her sides as she gave a grand, sweeping bow to the Archon’s box and all the magisters in their high seats.

“Our winner, Seraphina! Could she be the one to take it all? Only time will tell!” Throwing kisses and bows to the adoring shouts that followed her out, Aerin’s jubilant smile instantly faded as she stepped back under the iron gate, pausing before Erebus.

“Good job,” he nodded. “Just do that every day for the next week, and we’ll have this.” There were six more fights before the final match. As long as she kept winning, she would move on to the next bracket. Seven more fights, and she would be Victorem. Seven more fights, and Ellana would be safe.

***

Aerin sighed loudly at the prone woman at her feet, her curved sword some several feet behind her, her shield cleaved in two. “You’re supposed to be one of the best. Is this all you have to offer me?” she shouted up at the crowds. “I signed up to battle warriors, not rats.” The next six fights had passed in a blur. Eventually, she had to resort to taunts, playing with her opponents in order to give the spectators the show the craved. Allowing them to get hits in, letting them think they were winning, that they had found an edge against her- before crushing their spirits and bodies beneath her boot. It was almost painful for her. “Yield?”

“Yield,” a hoarse voice muttered to the elation of the crowd.

“It seems she has done it! Tomorrow, Seraphina shall take to the Proving Grounds one final time, in an epic showdown with one other champion! Who will it be? Basilius the laquearius or Sophronius the hoplomachus?”

The cool shade of the tunnels that ran beneath the arena brought a welcome relief to her sweaty skin, a gentle breath running across her neck. Erebus frowned at her. “You let her get in a few good hits.”

Aerin shrugged. “It would have been over too quickly if I hadn’t.”

The Doctore howled with laughter at that, slapping her on the back. “That’s my girl.” Her answering smile did not reach her eyes, as usual. “Go get cleaned up and rest,” he chuckled, his tone almost friendly. With a small bow, she exited the room, heading deeper underground to her cell.

“Aerin!” A slim, preadolescent elf rose from the pallet where she had been sitting, a plain linen shift wrapped around her. Emerald green eyes studied her closely, taking note of the few scrapes and bruises that littered her arms and legs. “No injuries?”

“Nothing serious,” she began pulling off her armor, carefully stacking them in a corner of the small room.

“I hate being stuck down here while you’re up there,” Ellana pouted, pulling various ointments and poultices out of her bag.

“You’d rather watch?”

“Creators, no! I just… I don’t know,” the young girl muttered, throwing a wet rag at the teenager she called sister. “I just wish it was over.”

“One more fight tomorrow and it will be,” Aerin stretched out on her cot, humming with relief as the other rubbed medicine into her sore muscles, a cool tingle spreading through her limbs.

“Do you know who your last opponent is?”

“Either Basilius, a laquearius or Sophronius, a hoplomachus. I fought Basilius last year. He’s good, but he uses a lasso. Way too easy to burn. Sophronius I’ve heard of. Supposedly he’s undefeated.”

“And he’s a… hoplimoo…?”

“Hoplomachus,” Aerin chuckled. “It’s a lightly armored warrior. They carry either a sword or a spear, and a small, round shield. They’re usually fast and agile. I suspect he’ll be the one I’ll be up against.”

Frowning to herself, Ellana bent over her task, liberally massaging every inch of skin with the elfroot poultice. “It’s going to be different from the others, then.”

“Yes.” Her voice was quiet and contemplative.

“Be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?”

***

The wind whipped the few loose strands that escaped her bun around her solemn face, kicking up a tiny whirlwind of sand around her leather clad legs. Sunlight glinted into her eyes, bouncing off his metal bracers and shield, held loosely in his right hand. The butt of a tall spear rested against the ground to his left. Sophronius. His name meant self control. She doubted it would be easy to taunt him into a rage like she had done with a few of the others. Serene gray eyes studied her carefully.

“Seraphina.”

“Sophronius.”

A hush fell over the Proving Grounds as the crowd waited with bated breath, watching the two strongest gladiators stare each other down. Erebus’ last words rang in her ears. “He’s a mage. Ice is his specialty. Beware.”

Mage. Like her. Except her element was fire. She felt the tingle of her mana slide through her fingers.

“No words of wisdom for me?” his deep voice asked, the trace of a smile on his lips.

“None that you would heed,” Aerin shrugged carelessly. “Fools rarely do.”

“You assume that I am a fool, then?”

“I assume nothing.” He grinned at her, a scar running across one cheek pulling his smile crooked.

“I shall enjoy this. It’s rare that I have an opponent as lovely as you.” The gong reverberated through her chest, her fingers adjusting themselves on her hilts.

“I’m glad for you, that your last sight will at least be a pretty face,” she smirked, spinning away as she felt him pull the Fade in. Thousands of tiny snowflakes exploded above her head, swirling around her as she crouched, waiting. _There_. Ice erupted beneath her feet, barely missing her as she vaulted backwards, somersaulting in the air. Her swords flew around her, her legs propelling her forward to block his spear, grunting as his small shield bashed into her shoulder. Shaking the pain out of her joints, she narrowed her eyes at him. _He’s toying with me_ , she realized. _I bet he’s right handed_. So the shield was what she needed to watch.

Armed with this new knowledge, it was now easy for her to dodge his weaker thrusts, all of her focus on the small, round shield he brandished like a battering ram. He hissed as the edge of a sword sliced into his bicep even as his grip on the shield tightened. Smooth metal collided with the side of her head. Blinking back stars, she stumbled back a few steps, wincing as she fell, ankle twisting, her foot frozen to the ground. Warily, she watched Sophronius approach her like a panther stalking his kill. Seizing her mana, she waited until he was right upon her before flinging a small fireball at his crotch, burning away his loincloth, giggling as he yelped from the scorch marks now gracing his inner thigh. The crowd went wild as they greedily drank in the sight of the exposed man.

He grinned lazily at her, watching as she smashed the ice and scrambled back to her feet. “If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

“My way is so much more fun,” she purred as she shot an arc of lightning, hitting him in his bracer, running up his arm to his chest. Gritting his teeth, he felt his muscles seize, his shield dropping from his hand. With a wave of her hand and a small force push, the shield skittered across the arena, out of his reach. 

“Is this how it is to be? I thought we were getting along so well,” he sighed, hefting his spear in his hands.

“Sadly, I don’t play well with others.” The flat of a blade landed against the wooden shaft as he advanced, his swings precise and calculated, more than a match for her skill. The breeze from the spear whipped by her head as she leaned backwards, the tip just grazing the tip of her nose. Jerking herself upright, his fist in the side of her jaw caught her offguard. Down she went, grunting as she hit the sand, closing her eyes to protect them from the grains. The tip of his spear nudged her against her neck.

“Yield.”

She opened one eye. “Not a chance.” Faster than lightning, her hands lashed out, grabbing the shaft just below the tip, shoving it to the side, the edge slicing her cheek open as it embedded itself into the ground next to her head. Long legs wrapped around his knees, twisting the man down backwards. With a growl, she rolled over on top of him. His fingers scrabbled for a spear that was mere inches away, but still too far. A sharp blade pressed against his neck, her blood dripping into his face. “Yield.”

Stormy gray eyes stared into her blue gold depths. She felt him reach for his mana, then falter. Magic was not allowed in such close quartered combat like they found the themselves in now, only physical skill. “Yield,” he agreed, his naked member twitching against her leg. Aerin raised an eyebrow at him. “What did you expect?” grinning, he shrugged. Rolling her eyes, she stood up, pointedly ignoring his nudity as she offered a hand to help him up.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you, the Victorem of the Septicentennial! Seraphina, of Ludus Therion!”

Aerin let herself bask in the adoration of the crowd, hands held high as she slowly turned, a wide grin across her elegant features, the blood running down her face turning her into a fierce goddess of war. And yet, she was dead on the inside. None of it mattered. And the real trials were still yet to come. She could already feel the weight of the magisters’ stares on her body. It didn’t matter. Ellana was safe again. She could be content with that.


	3. Positive

The sound of the fire being stoked woke her early that morning, as one of the servants dropped the iron poker on the stone floor, sending a sharp clang through the room. A horrified gasp and a low, urgent murmur quickly followed as the woman panicked, fearful of her lieges’ reaction. As neither one stirred from their slumber, the maid sighed in unbridled relief, slowly slinking backwards out of the room, gently closing the door behind her.

A warm, rough hand wrapped securely around her waist, tugging her closer to his broad chest. “Good morning,” his breath was hot against her ear, a low moan escaping as she wiggled against him.

“It is, isn’t it?” she sighed, rolling over to face him. Some days, she still couldn’t believe this wasn’t all some elaborate dream. Maybe she was stuck in the Fade. Maybe she was back in the Shrine of Dumat, trapped within her own mind. “Is this real?”

Humming happily, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I often wonder the same thing. You’re here, finally, with me. We’re married. I wake up every day to see you in my bed. And we never have to be apart again. After all these years, it seems almost too good to be true.” Alistair traced his fingertips up along her arm, sweeping across her collarbone, down over the swell of her breasts. “Aerin, are your breasts getting larger?”

Frowning at him, she poked the smooth skin. “They are. As is the rest of me. I’m getting so soft, and squishy, and lazy here. Look! My stomach has rolls, Alistair,” Aerin groaned dramatically, her husband chuckling at her reaction.

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing, you know. And you’re still beautiful.”

“I’m getting fat,” she whined.

“So am I. Do you think I’m any less attractive now that I was back during the Blight?”

“No,” she muttered. “You actually look better now. The weight looks good on you.”

“I could say the same about you, love,” he chided. “You look so much healthier now. Happier as well, might I add? Perhaps that has something to do with me?”

“Perhaps,” she returned his grin, snuggling her body more closely to his, feeling his member twitch against her leg.

“Do we have time?” his voice dropped to a husky murmur.

“You’re the king,” she reminded him. “Make time.”

“My Queen is most wise,” Alistair groaned as he reached fingers down to her heat, feeling her arousal already soaking her folds. “Maker, how are you always so ready for me?”

“Must be your manly aroma,” her voice was a breathless giggle as she gaze into his sky blue eyes.

Growling, he rolled over, pinning her underneath him. “Are you trying to insinuate I smell?” the king demanded.

“Only in the best way, Your Majesty,” what began as a smirk turned into a gasp, Alistair plunging his thick cock deep inside of her. “Fuck, Ali,” she groaned, wrapping her still toned legs around his back. This is how they started out almost every day. She teased him about his supposed lack of Grey Warden stamina being a lie, but she loved it. Every second. They had so much time to make up for. Even after a year of marriage, the couple had yet to leave the so-called honeymoon stage, still acting like a pair of teenagers caught in the first throes of love. She hoped it never went away.

His lips caught hers in a bruising kiss, the urgency of his passion overtaking all reason, hips thrusting her into the mattress with loud slaps of skin on skin. “I will never get tired of this,” he moaned, relishing in the feel of her muscles clenching around his throbbing shaft, as if she were trying to draw him in even deeper, attempting to consume his soul. His heart, mind, body, soul- it was all hers, anyways. Everything he was. Laying his large bulk over her soft frame, he pounded into his lover, her keening cries echoing through the large room they shared. “Come for me, wife.”

With his pelvis grinding against her swollen clit as the tip of his cock hit that perfect sweet spot within her, his voice pleading with her in that desperate tone she loved so much, it all pushed her over the edge of her orgasm, biting his shoulder to muffle her screams as she came, walls spasming around him. “Yes, just like that,” Alistair groaned, losing his rhythm slightly as his own pleasure overtook him. “Aerin, I’m- a-ah!” He growled into her ear as he shot heavy ropes of his creamy seed deep within her womb, hips finally stilling as the sensations and friction became too much for him to bear.

“Mmm,” she smiled up at him, lightly scratching his scalp with her fingers. “I love you. Did you know that?”

Panting, heart still dancing a wild staccato in his chest, he laughed, gaze full of affection and joy. “I still can hardly believe it most days.”

“Then I shall keep reminding you,” she kissed the tip of his nose, grimacing at the sweat that dripped into her mouth. “Bleh! Alright you, up. We have a meeting with Bann Alfstanna this morning right before lunch.” Sitting up abruptly, a wave of nausea almost had her running for the chamberpot.

“Love? What’s wrong?” Alistair frowned at the way she clutched her belly, her other hand over her mouth.

“N-nothing,” she waved away his concern, “I thought I was going to be sick, but it passed. That was weird. Maybe something I ate? I thought that quail last night was rather gamey.”

“I’ll go tell the kitchen to prepare you something light for breakfast then. Can’t have you being sick on the nobles, after all,” he grinned, neatly dodging the pillow she threw at him.

“Thanks, Ali.”

***

The bouts of sudden nausea got worse over the next few weeks. And she was always so tired. Stealing naps whenever she could, she pouted when Alistair eventually put his foot down and forced her to see a healer. 

“You’ve never been this tired,” his hands wrung together worriedly. “Please? Just for me?”

“It’s probably just the stress of the last few years finally catching up with me,” she muttered, only to relent when she saw him making the puppy dog eyes at her. “Fine. Send a damn healer to me.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, pecking her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Fighting another wave of queasiness, Aerin laid back on the pillow with a small whimper, surprised by the prickle of tears in her eyes. _He’s so good to me. Gods, I love that man so much. He’s so good, and I’m just here, being difficult, and- and…_ The door swung open, Fiona, who had come to live at the palace as court enchanter, accompanied by Evelyn, a mage that had recently gained employment as an additional spirit healer, softly crossing the room.

“His Majesty says you’ve been sick, Your Highness?”

“Nauseous. And tired. But that’s normal, right? Not anything noteworthy.”

The mages exchanged a significant look that eluded Aerin. “Any other symptoms, Your Highness? Bloating? Cramping? Spotting? Or a lack of your moon cycle entirely?”

“I… it’s always been irregular,” Aerin whispered. Living the sort of life she used to, always running, fighting, sleeping on the road, always stressed and rarely eating a full meal meant things such as menstrual cycles were never normal. _But they’ve been regular for the past several months, ever since I went to Val Aubrais. Does this mean_ \- “I’m pregnant?” Her eyes widened, taking in the exuberant smile on Fiona’s face.

“It seems that way, Your Highness. If you’ll lie back?” The faint glow of magic woven together over her belly, an orderly weave settling down onto her skin. “I’d estimate you’re about 3 months along.”

“I’m pregnant.” The words still didn’t make sense to her. She was… How could a woman like her have a baby? Raise a child? Be a mother? After everything she had been through? She was too broken, too scarred, too-

“Shall we let the king in, my lady?”

 _Alistair. He’s going to be so happy_. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. _He’ll be with me. Together, we can do this. Just like we do everything else. Oh god, I’m going to be a mother. Hell, Fiona is going to be a grandmother. Oh, he’s going to be such a good father._ Simply imaging her husband with their future child brought the tears back in full force as she pictured a toddler chasing after him, shouting, “Dada! Dada!”, squealing as the man swept up his child into a gentle hug, peppering their sweet face with kisses. Lost in her haze, she didn’t hear him as he re-entered the room, sprinting to her bedside in a frantic rush when he realized she was crying.

“Aerin, Aerin, what’s wrong? What did they say?” Trembling hands wrapped around hers, eyes begging her to tell him everything was okay.

“Ali, I’m…” Sniffing, she noisily wiped her face clean with the sheet across her chest. “I’m pregnant.”

Alistair froze, half leaning on her bed. “W-what?”

“A baby. Our baby. In here. I’m- you’re- we’re going to be parents,” she whispered.

A huge grin split his face as he jolted upright, whooping so loudly she was sure the entire castle had heard him. “A baby!” he shouted with glee, crushing her to his chest. “Oh, oh! Sorry!” As he gently released her, Aerin giggled at his guilty, stricken expression.

“I’m fine, love. I’m not fragile, just sleepy.”

“Maker.” His face was still rapturous and he couldn’t stop smiling. He suspected he would never stop smiling at this rate. “I never thought this could happen to us,” he admitted. “I was so worried the Taint had done irreparable damage.”

She cradled his face in her hands, Alistair nuzzling his cheek against her palm. “Fiona thinks I’m about 3 months along.”

“You’re going to be the best mother ever, do you know that?” His eyes turned serious as he regarded her, sensing her underlying anxiety under her hesitant smile.

“I’ll have you to help me.”

“Yes, you will. Every step of the way. Our child will want for nothing.” Climbing onto the bed with her, Alistair tucked her against his body, resting on of his large hands across her still flat belly. “I can’t wait to see you all big and round with our baby,” he murmured.

“Even when I’m all fat and cranky,” she giggled.

“Especially then,” he smirked. “I love you. So, so much.”

“I love you, too, you silly, foolish, wonderful man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some sappy feels.


End file.
